Dearest little lamb of mine?"
"Shepherd, O my shepherd dear!
Lead the sheep afar from here;
Yonder in the great, dark wood,
For us there is pasture good;
Shade for us and thee is there;
Master, listen to my prayer.
Of thy dogs, the bravest, best,
Take with thee, and trustiest;
For the man of Hungary,
And the Vrancian, cruelly
At nightfall will murder thee."
"Curly lambkin, if indeed
Thou canst in the future read;
If Fate wills I die to-day,
In this meadow, thou must say
Bold to him of Hungary,
Boldly to the mountaineer,
That they lay my body here,
Close beside my herd-hut small,
So I may stay near you all;
Stay among my sheep and still
Lie and listen underground
To my dogs upon the hill.
See thou, when my grave is made,
Over me my three flutes laid;
One all wrought of beechen wood
Sings how love is true and good;
One that's carved of ivory
Tells the heart's pain, tenderly;
One of elder-tree that loud
Sounds of joy and courage proud.
